


i take the parts that i remember and stitch them back together

by mintleafs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, and what he thinks of scorpius, it’s very late i’m very tired, just a little window into albus’s thoughts at a certain moment, mostly an introspective thing, takes place in a car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 09:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15507399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintleafs/pseuds/mintleafs
Summary: Albus’s car radio is selectively broken and Scorpius Malfoy could dance to the tune of the world ending if he wanted to.





	i take the parts that i remember and stitch them back together

**Author's Note:**

> it is currently 6:11 AM and i haven’t slept in the slightest but i churned out this slice of life piece in the midst of late night/early morning ramblings. i think it’s sweet but i’ll probably hate it by the afternoon so it might be edited later.
> 
> title is from a poem called “litany in which certain things are crossed out” by richard siken. check it out, it’s lovely.
> 
> happy reading, folks.

Albus stared down at the shitty radio of his 2009 Honda Civic, then back over at Scorpius, whose hair nodded in tandem with the whole of his body as he danced along to the grainy song filtering in through the speakers.

It was unusually warm, even for the summer, and the Civic’s air conditioning was nothing to write home about, but the swelter of heat seemed insignificant muddled with all the other things Albus felt. For one, a certain fondness pricked at his lip, and at the palms of his sweaty hands. Scorpius sang along to the song, his voice a pleasantly melodious fracture in the ambient noise of the background. He used to think it was odd, the way Scorpius did that; the way he turned moments like these, overheated jam sessions in a car parked halfway across an oversized lot, into something heavier, and sweeter. At times he still pondered it, maybe even envied it.

For all that Scorpius was, though, he was near impossible to envy.

Or maybe he wasn’t, and Albus was merely swept up in the concept of being in love with his best friend, too complacent and dazed and happy to even care that Scorpius was and always would be ten times the person he was. It should’ve been difficult, he thought, to forget that Scorpius’s family was made of money, that he was beautiful, that he wove strings into dull moments until there was some clear picture of what life was supposed to be. In the end, Albus didn’t have to forget at all. He was well aware that the world thought everything of Scorpius. Just like he was aware that Scorpius thought everything of him, and, well, that was the sort of thing that broke something in him but mended it all the same.

He thought back to this article Scorpius once sent him. There was some practice where vases, plates, and other ceramic ornaments were shattered either purposefully or not, and mended by using melted gold to sew the pieces back together. Kintsukuroi, he remembered. The two of them must’ve been something like that, he supposed—Albus, for as long as he’d known himself, had been broken in some way or another. And Scorpius was golden, always had been, for the eternity that Albus had known him.

Scorpius was good at healing things. Lucky him; he dreamed of being a healer, and was already training for it. Albus had half a mind to mention that his car radio had a propensity for not functioning, but as soon as Scorpius’s weight had settled on the seat it began to croon a melody like sand across glass, and of _course_ it was the kind of thing Scorpius could dance to.

“Albus,” Scorpius murmured through the unintelligible voice of the radio announcer, “you never told me your car sings to you.”

Albus laughed, because no one had ever thought of it like that before, or at least mentioned it. And it was a pretty thing to think. The Honda Civic sang, and Scorpius danced, and Albus slouched against the driver’s seat, falling in love with everything all at once.

“It usually doesn’t,” he replied, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “I think it likes you.”

“Aw,” Scorpius cooed, brushing his hand against the dashboard. “I like you too, you dysfunctional but lovely machine.”

He patted the rear view mirror, completely sending it off kilter, but he didn’t seem to realize the implications of it. He met Albus’s raised eyebrows with a brilliant smile, and Albus didn’t know if it was heat or affection that made his vision swim with such velocity. Scoffing quietly, Albus adjusted the mirror as another song came on, and Scorpius bounced in his seat.

“They said this song is by someone named Cat Power,” Scorpius informed him with excitement. “Cat! You love cats, and so do I. Let’s go home and hug Cassie. You know that thing she does in her sleep, where if you sneak your hand between her arms and right above her chest, she’ll squeeze it real tight and purr strongly before relaxing again, and you can feel her heart beat underneath your palm? Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Isn’t it,” Albus said, and smiled at Scorpius, who had already closed his eyes and begun to sway along to the considerably mellower beat.

_Come with me, my love… to the sea, the sea of love._

Ironically, Albus hated the sea. All bodies of water bothered him, really. Once, when he was seven, he’d snuck out of Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill’s cottage out to shore, and looked over the ocean around them. In the darkness it had been pitch black, and roaring loud against Albus’s sensitive ears. It didn’t seem to care that Albus was afraid, or that he couldn’t seem to step away from the water far enough to keep it from reaching his feet, submerging them in a water that burned, that drowned, that had once held his hand and left it behind with the tides in any case.

He had a tendency to stay away from seas and ocean and lakes, nowadays. Though if anybody could change his mind, it was Scorpius. After all, if he could coax a song out of an old car, if he could find perfection within some moment on some day in some year in some life, then he could sing and dance about a sea of love and Albus might not mind the idea of taking a swim.

The song flickered through the speakers, and cut out completely right after the second chorus. Scorpius pouted, pushing futilely at the volume button before turning to Albus.

“It stopped liking me,” he said, gesturing towards the radio. “Maybe the dancing was too much. I didn’t dance when I met you, did I?”

Albus sighed, and leaned over slightly, letting Scorpius take a moment to close the gap between them. It was a soft but quick kiss, like they had taken all the love building up in a ball in their centers and pushed it with all their might towards their lips just as they met, and as they pulled apart it sizzled between them, pulsing like the vibrations of the radio, or Albus’s cat’s heartbeat, or Scorpius’s hair as he danced in a car in the summer heat without an iota of doubt or shame.

“Home, yeah?” Albus questioned, turning the ignition all the way. A bead of sweat prickled at the nape of his neck, gliding all the way down to the small of his back.

Scorpius hummed. “Home.”

They set off, the roar of the tires across the gravel road reminding Albus of a sea that he didn’t quite hate anymore, and a fracture of gold glinting in the beams of light raining down from the summer sun.

**Author's Note:**

> the song playing originally is “the killing moon” by echo and the bunnymen, and the second song is “sea of love” by cat power.
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated ♥


End file.
